


Seven Days in Heaven

by Aikori_Ichijouji



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, One Shot Collection, Please tell me to stop, Temporary Character Death, at least i think it is, guaranteed to at least make you giggle, happy Ren/Kyoko week 2018, this is way too many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikori_Ichijouji/pseuds/Aikori_Ichijouji
Summary: A collection of seven shorts and one-shots for Ren & Kyoko Week 2018. A new fic will be posted each day for the week of July 6 - 12. Enjoy a wide range of stories both canon and AU ranging from angsty to fluffy and hilarious.





	1. Ready When You Are

**READY WHEN YOU ARE**

The kitchen was eerily familiar, as was the table at which he sat. This was a place he hadn’t seen in years. A place he thought he had escaped when he was running from himself. An empty plate sat before him, scattered remnants of oil and rice clung to the plain white dish. What was he doing here?

“Still trying to kill the chicken inside you, Kuon?”

He quickly searched for the source of the voice and his eyes rested on a familiar face. It smiled knowingly at him, and he suddenly had difficulty breathing.

“Rick?”

The man standing across from him pointed at him, his fingers taking the crude shape of a gun, and winked.

“Got it in one, kid, “ Rick grinned. “Then again, this is your dream so it really shouldn’t be all that surprising.”

Of course he was dreaming. Why else would his dead best friend be having a casual conversation with him in his parents’ kitchen? Then again, this was not the usual dream he had in which the man would feature. Typically, they were darker and more gruesome; sometimes an over exaggerated reenactment of his death and sometimes he would be running terrified from his vengeful, reanimated corpse as it sought retribution. All in all, this one was decidedly more pleasant than the norm.

“You’re usually not here like… this,” he couldn’t think of a better way to explain the torturous dreams he often had.

“Maybe you’ve finally realized that none of this was your fault,” Rick shrugged, taking a seat across from him. “Maybe you’re finally ready to forgive yourself.”

“I doubt it,” he disagreed readily, the old argument rolling easily off his tongue.

“Poor little Kuon; always suffering in silence,” his friend mocked. “Did you really learn nothing from me? What did I always tell you about survival?”

“You told me to fight for it.”

“True, but I never said you had to fight alone,” Rick pointed out. “You were always the one to run off on your own and pick fights, but that was never what I suggested you do.”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked heatedly. “Some battles need to be fought alone.”

“You only fought alone because you never made meaningful connections with anyone but me.”

“Yea, and look where that got me,” he groused.

Rick let the comment slide, “Didn’t you ever wonder why you kept moving from one girl to the other so quickly? Did you ever consider that you might want what Tina and I had? What your parents still have?”

“Sure I did, but I figured I had time because I was still young.”

“Maybe, but you were growing up much faster than anyone intended you to, I think. I suppose I can take the blame for part of that,” the other man scratched at his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head. “Anyway, you’re missing the point I’m trying to make.”

“Which is?”

“You’ve started this whole new life for yourself and, honestly, I’m impressed at how well you’re doing for yourself, really,” Rick suddenly looked concerned. “But you’re well on your way to repeating the same mistakes.”

“I can’t get close to anyone,” he countered. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost anyone else.”

“That’s why you have to connect with a lot of people,” the older man said as if it were plainly obvious. “They’re the ones that help you through the loss. The ones that pick you up and fight alongside you. Hell, you’ve already done it and you don’t even realize. That one girl you’ve kept closest to you, she’ll never leave your side.”

“I don’t have anyone like that,” he denied flatly.

“Don’t lie to me, Kuon. It’s rude,” his best friend scolded. “She’s proven, several times over, that she wants to stick by you and be your strength. And I know damn well you want her to. Why are you denying yourself this?”

“She deserves better than someone like me,” he mumbled morosely.

“Kid, I will crawl out of my grave just to smack you upside the head, I swear,” the man growled, incensed.

He winced at Rick’s anger, but said nothing in his defense.

“What she doesn’t deserve is this terrible attitude you have. She’s already seen you at your weakest and she hasn’t run away yet. Not everyone gets this lucky and finds someone like that,” Rick’s eyes narrowed at him as he spoke. “So, I suggest you take your head out of your ass and you hold on tight to that one and never let her go.”

“Do you really think I’m ready to forgive myself?” He only realized the absurdity of asking a figment of his imagination in his own dream after the fact.

His friend gave him a kind, sad smile.

“Kuon, I don’t think we’d even be having this conversation if you weren’t.”

Ren woke up with a start, his bedsheets clenched tightly in his fisted hands. The sudden rush of adrenaline had him breathing hard as he fumbled around his bedside table with shaking hands for his phone. He checked the time; it was just after two in the morning. Before he could put the phone back down and try falling asleep again, his hands acted without his permission and began to dial a familiar number.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

He still vividly remembered the day they buried him.

The looks from everyone around him during the funeral was almost worse than having witnessed his death firsthand, but what hurt the most was Tina blatantly refusing to look him in the eye. It felt like they all blamed him for his friend’s untimely passing. They were right, of course. The weight of their stares and the hushed whispers they shared between each other made him retreat further into himself as he struggled to carry the burden.

It was the first funeral he ever attended and he had no idea what to do. His hands shifted every few minutes, as if they were unsure as to where they should be placed. He watched the other attendees, who all had either a handkerchief or a tissue balled tightly in their fists with tears streaming down their cheeks. The black square of cloth his mother kindly tucked into the pocket of his jacket still remained there, dry and unused.

He ached from looking between the sorrowful faces and the casket they sat around. It was so still, like the body that lay within it. He wished he had the strength to take one last look at him before they closed it. He wished he could cry. Instead, the tears stubbornly stayed inside him, causing his chest to hurt and the backs of his eyes to burn.

When he asked his father later why he was unable to do so, he was given a sad smile and a hand pressed itself into his shoulder. He was told that everyone processes grief differently. Some people don’t end up crying until much later, once the pain of the loss has finally had a chance to fully manifest. On the other hand, some people don’t cry at all. It doesn’t make them any less affected by the death of someone they cared about. It was just how they chose to cope.

All in all, he was told not to think too hard about it. He was free to grieve however he wanted, for as long as he needed, without feeling like he wasn’t doing enough. Still, he felt as if he was disrespecting Rick’s memory by not shedding a single tear. His father squeezed his shoulder and said that if it was supposed to happen, it would happen.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

She arrived much faster than he anticipated. He didn’t want to think of how she managed to get there at such a late hour of the night. He cursed himself for not considering that she shouldn’t have been out in the city on her own. She risked it just to be there for him because he called. Those thoughts were quickly banished from his mind, for as soon as the door closed behind her-- before she could even properly remove her shoes-- he pulled her towards him. He was finally ready to move on. Ready to properly mourn the loss of his best friend. Without any pretext, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face against her shoulder.

And cried.

It took Kyoko a few moments to fully process what exactly was going on. Having only woken up less than an hour before because of Ren’s call, her brain was still a little fuzzy. But, she’d heard it in his voice over the phone; it was the same voice he had when she found him standing forlornly in front of the elevator that night she came back from the convenience store as Setsu. In that instant, she knew something was very wrong and she made her way to him as quickly as possible.

Now, she struggled under the weight of his body that was slumped against hers, trying to hold him up as he sobbed. She gently rubbed his back while he took shuddering breaths between the sorrowful wails that poured from his lips. His tears had long since soaked through the thin shirt she threw on in her haste to leave and they were starting to trickle a cold trail down her back. The sound of his muffled cries on her shoulder jackhammered at her heart.

At some point, she managed to move them both further into the apartment and they sat on the sofa. Ren had quieted somewhat, his sobs sounding more like ragged exhales than mournful cries. Kyoko wondered how much longer she’d be able to keep it together without breaking down herself. She didn’t even know what had him in such a state, but seeing him in so much pain was starting to wear on even her well-built defenses.

The memories of a similar scene came back to her in that moment and she pressed her head against his, squeezing her eyes tight. He’d been there for her before when she was like this. How hard must it have been for him to hold her while she cried like her entire world was falling apart? She had a greater appreciation for what he did for her that night. Now, it was her chance to return the favor.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“Why?” she asked softly.

“I didn’t mean to make you come all the way here when it’s so late,” he sounded so broken, it was killing her.

“I came because I wanted to,” she assured him, still rubbing his back. “Because you sounded like you needed me.”

“I can take you home if you--”

“You are in no shape to be driving,” she chided him gently. “I will stay right here.”

He hiccuped and she fought back a smile, scolding herself for her selfish indulgence in how endearing she found him when his guard was completely down like this.

“You’re not even going to ask me why?”

“No, you can tell me in your own time what this is all about. For now, I just want to know that you’ll be alright,” she kept her voice low.

She felt him nod against her.

“I want to tell you,” he said finally. “I want to tell you all of it.”

“You can do it in your own time,” she soothed. “Don’t force yourself because I’m here.”

“No,” he said firmly, pulling away from her. “You deserve to know. This involves you as well.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she protested again.

“I’m ready now,” he said resolutely.

His voice was filled with a conviction that hadn’t been there when he was previously falling apart in her arms. She hesitated at his piercing stare. Whatever he wanted to share was, clearly, very important. It seemed like he needed to get this off his chest. But, she got the feeling that everything would change between them once he did.

“I suppose I’m ready to hear it, then,” she resigned.

An eerie calm washed over his tearstained face as he took several breaths and just stared at her. Kyoko began to wonder if he’d reconsidered saying anything when he took her hand in his, giving her a brave smile.

And he told her everything.


	2. Spell it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haste makes waste. So, too, does anger breed mistakes. One little error puts Kyoko in a strange situation.
> 
> My submission for the "wrong" prompt.

Kyoko smeared her eyeliner as she rubbed at her eyes with one, hand while flipping through a large book with the other. She didn’t care about the inevitable black circles that would halo her eyes afterwards. It would match nicely with her puffy, red eyes anyway. She ran out of tissues an hour prior and wasn’t about to try cleaning makeup out of her clothing, so she bypassed using her sleeves.

Pages flew past her face as she scanned the words before flipping them to look at the next one below. She searched wildly through the book, the bangles on her left wrist clinking with each swoop. Several more pages were pushed aside before she stopped somewhere near the middle. This one  _ definitely  _ looked promising.

She ran a finger over the runic characters at the top of the page and smiled weakly. Yes, this would cure her of this stupid affliction for sure. Making her way over to the small kitchen in her apartment, she washed the makeup residue from her hands before rummaging through her special pantry for the items she’d need. She made sure to keep these supplies separate from the canned soups and cereals in her actual pantry in the off chance that someone accidentally mistook them for culinary ingredients.

Nudging the pantry door closed with her foot, her arms were full of bottles of strange liquids, paper packets and bundles of dried twigs wrapped in twine, as she toddled her way back to the table where the book lay. She fumbled around trying to find the bit of chalk she used the day before during practice. Once she retrieved it from where it rolled under the armchair, she drew a circle and a few symbols on the tabletop. Pulling out her trusty, carved wooden bowl from under the table, she placed it inside the chalk circle and began pouring, sprinkling and breaking various items into it.

Half-burned candles soon surrounded the bowl and she lit them in the proper order while carefully reciting the incantation. She held her hands over the bowl and continued chanting for the required amount of time and watched as the ingredients in the bowl bubbled and fizzed until it was nothing more than a pile of black ash. Blowing out the candles, she lifted the bowl and carried it onto her balcony, where she blew the ash into the wind. Exhausted from a combination of emotions and spellcasting, she promptly locked her balcony door, turned off all the lights in her apartment, and went to sleep.

The next morning, she instantly regretted falling asleep without dressing for bed. Her clothes were wrinkled and created uncomfortable pressure points while she slept, that ached when she woke. In addition, her pillowcase was now stained with her makeup. She groaned and trudged to her bathroom to shower and change. Work was not going to wait for her to take her time to get her act together. Kanae depended on her to help run the shop.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

“What happened to you after that delivery yesterday?” Kanae asked when she walked into the shop later that day. “I thought you said you were sick.”

“For all intents and purposes, I was,” Kyoko grumbled.

She told Kanae everything about how she stumbled upon her--now former--boyfriend’s ‘meeting’ with a female member of his coven that was in no way professional, or proper for that matter. Her friend looked on with sympathy as she shared the excruciating details, cringing occasionally at the more graphic parts of her story. A buffet table was certainly not meant to be used in such a fashion.

“Well, good riddance to him,” Kanae said finally. “I always knew he was bad news.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she groaned.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything,” Kanae shrugged. “You’re a grown adult, Kyoko. I can’t make your decisions for you.”

“Thanks,” she drawled begrudgingly.

“Anytime,” she gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Now, do you want me to whip up something for you? I’m sure I’ve got a potion that can probably help.”

“No need. I already took care of it.”

“How?” Kanae asked, intrigued.

“I found a love avoidance spell last night.”

“Kyoko,” she warned. “You know love magic is extremely volatile and dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I only cast it on myself. It’s supposed to make me immune to love, I think. So no one will fall in love with me and I won’t fall in love with them.”

Kanae pondered this for a moment, then shook her head, “If this backfires, I’m reserving the right for a full fifteen minutes of throwing it in your face before I even consider helping.”

“It’ll be fine, trust me.”

“Famous last words,” she snorted. “Anyway, since you’ve been emotionally traumatized, I’ll take care of the deliveries for today. Are you good to hold down the shop on your own?”

“You can count on me!” Kyoko said with a mock salute.

Kanae swept out the door with several packages in her arms and her car keys dangling from one hand. Once she was gone, Kyoko busied herself with dusting the cases and cleaning the glass until it shined. It was a slow day at the shop and she was grateful to not have to interact with too many people. She was still out of sorts from the day before, so her ability to keep her ‘customer service’ facade intact was less competent than usual.

She felt the buzz of the ward on the door as someone walked in before she heard the chime of the bell. In the middle of organizing envelopes of dried ingredients, she looked up to see a tall man in a long, black coat. His dark, chin-length hair hung in his face like it was purposely styled to do so. At first glance, he looked mildly intimidating until she looked closer and saw the gold and white striped collar peeking out of a sage green sweater, navy slacks and the unassuming look in his eyes. He wasn’t intimidating at all. Unless you count intimidatingly attractive.

The fact that she could look at him objectively and decide that, yes, he was indeed handsome without any of the accompanying metaphorical butterflies, gave her hope that the spell had worked.

Pasting on her sunniest smile, she greeted him once he reached the counter, “Welcome! Is there something I can help you find today?”

He stood there in silence for a moment and just stared at her, before he nodded quickly and retrieving a slip of paper from his coat pocket.

“I was given a list,” he said, putting the paper on the counter in front of her.

She picked it up and scanned through each item, nodding at the ones she knew were in stock.

“I think I can put all of this together for you. If we’re out of anything, we can order for you if you’d like.”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you,” he almost sighed the words.

As she turned and began to open drawers to pull out the items, she covertly looked him up and down in the mirror behind the counter and inspected his clothes once more. They were perfectly tailored and looked fairly expensive.

“It’s not often we get witches from uptown coming here,” she remarked over her shoulder. “Did your local supplier run out?”

“My coven typically has our orders delivered, but we hadn’t finalized the list until this morning and it was too late to put in an order for today,” he sounded strained, as if he was having trouble getting the words out.

She ignored his awkward speech and turned back to him to ask, “Warrens or Vandersud?”

“I’m sorry, what?” he was clearly looking at her face, but his eyes seemed to be out of focus until she spoke to him.

“Which coven, Warrens or Vandersud?” Kyoko asked again. “They’re our only regular clients from uptown.”

“Uh, Vandersud,” he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck and looking away nervously.

“I deliver to them all the time,” she said, eyeing him warily. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Getting supplies is usually not my responsibility,” he coughed, then shrugged. “But, I’m glad I agreed to help today.”

“Oh? Why’s that.”

“Ah, because I get to meet the... lovely person who helps keep us stocked every week,” he nearly choked on the second half of his sentence.

“Thanks, I guess,” she looked at him strangely.

He nodded and hummed his agreement, clamping his lips tightly together.

“Here’s everything except for the birch bark,” she handed him a small cardboard box. “We’ll be getting more later in the week. Since you typically get deliveries, I’ll just arrange to take it to you by Friday. Sound good?”

He nodded again, his lips still resolutely fused together.

“Will there be anything else?”

“I’d love to-- I mean, no. No, there is nothing else.”

“Are you sure?”

He screwed his eyes shut and muttered a few words to himself that she couldn’t quite make out. His hand grabbed onto one of the tarnished brass buttons on his coat and he ran his thumb over the surface in a clockwise pattern. After doing this for a few moments, he opened his eyes to turn a scrutinizing glare at her.

“Okay, seriously, how are you doing this?” he suddenly asked, sounding frustrated. “Is it some sort of affinity spell?”

“How am I doing what?”

“Maybe it’s an enhanced glamour of some sort,” he pondered aloud. “I don’t understand how it’s strong enough to affect even me.”

“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” she stared at him like he had grown twelve heads.

“The entire time I’ve been in this shop, you’ve been driving me to distraction and it’s taking everything in me to not blurt out how breathtakingly beautiful you are. If you aren’t doing it on purpose, I suggest you figure out who, or what, has charmed you, because I can’t stop staring at your lips and wondering what they taste like,” the words tumbled out of his mouth all at once, leaving him out of breath and flushed by the time he finished.

“I… uh…”

“And, apparently, that focusing spell did not last as long as I thought it would,” he grumbled, clearly irritated. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making me embarrass myself, I’m going now. Goodbye!”

He hastily picked up the box in front of him and all but bolted through the door, leaving her staring blankly as it slammed behind him in his wake.

“What was  _ that _ all about?” Kyoko asked the empty space he left behind.

By the time Kanae returned from deliveries, several other customers--both male and female--visited the shop without incident. When her boss settled back behind the counter with her, she began animatedly telling her about what happened earlier. She looked at her thoughtfully before speaking.

“Kyoko, what spell, exactly, did you use?” she asked carefully.

“It was one from the books we have on reserve in the back. I’ll show you.”

She disappeared and returned quickly with a large, leather-bound book. Opening it to the same page as she used the night before, she pointed out the spell.

“See? It says ‘Love Avoidance’ right there. I followed it to the letter.”

Kanae looked at the page for a long moment before she blinked, and did it again for good measure.

“Well, the good news is the spell probably didn’t backfire.”

“And the bad news?” Kyoko asked hesitantly.

“You mistranslated this symbol,” she pointed to one particular character in the title at the top. “When it’s turned to the left it means ‘avoidance,’ but this one is turned to the right which means…”

“Seeking,” Kyoko completed her sentence, looking horrified. “It was a love seeking spell.”

“Not just any love seeking spell,” Kanae corrected. “A  _ true _ love seeking spell.”

Kyoko groaned loudly and let her head smack against the countertop.

“Well, before I get into my promised fifteen minutes of ‘I told you so,’ let me first congratulate you on finding your true love.”

True to her word, Kanae lectured her for a full fifteen minutes about the dangers of performing spells and incantations while emotionally compromised. Kyoko listened dutifully while bemoaning her own fate. She  _ would _ mistranslate a spell and get herself into a mess of this caliber. Letting her own emotions get her into trouble was the hallmark of her personality and one would think she would know better by now. Apparently not. Kyoko was forever destined to get herself into self-inflicted scrapes as sure as the sun rises in the East.

Once the shop closed that evening, she joined Kanae for dinner at their favorite diner. They chatted mostly about inconsequential things in order to keep her mind off the blunder she made the night before. It worked, for the most part, until she was alone at her apartment. She took the book home with her, along with a few others, and spent the remainder of the night researching if there was any way she could possibly reverse the spell. For the second night in a row, she fell asleep still wearing the clothes from earlier in the day.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

When she arrived at work, Kyoko was greeted with the sight of an ostentatiously large bouquet of lilacs, mallow, sprigs of witch hazel and… striped carnations? She carefully gave the vase that held it a wide berth as she entered the shop. It looked top-heavy and the last thing she wanted was to clean up scattered petals and shards of glass. Kanae had an unamused expression on her face when she finally looked away from the floral monstrosity to greet her.

“What’s the deal with the flowers?” she asked. “I thought you weren’t seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” her friend said pointedly. “They’re for you.”

“They’re  _ what _ ?!”

“Oh, yes, your mystery man from Vandersud has sent you the most confusing bouquet in the history of the language of flowers.” she said, gesturing to the mass of intimidating foliage.

“Then, how do you know it’s from him?”

She pushed a small, white envelope towards her with one finger. Kyoko opened the flap and slowly pulled out the card within. It was embossed with a fleur-de-lis in the center and made of high quality paper. On it, there was a handwritten note with two lines of text.

“My waking thoughts have been consumed by you since yesterday,” Kyoko read slowly, then frowned when she got to the second line. “Please, make it stop.”

“He probably still thinks you’ve done this intentionally,” Kanae said with a giggle. “You’d do well to explain to him what really happened. It’s a shame he had to be another witch. If he was a normie, he would’ve just obsessively courted you and you’d just have to set up some wards to keep him away.”

“That situation wouldn’t be preferable either!” she whined in dismay. “And how am I supposed to explain anything to him when I don’t know who--wait, who’s R.T.?”

She flipped the card around to show Kanae the initials scribbled below the note. Her friend plucked it swiftly from her fingers to look at it again, laying it flat on the counter before her.

“I’m guessing he enchanted it so only the true recipient would be able to reveal the name of the sender,” she said with a slow nod. “He’s talented. Very impressive.”

“Will you  _ please _ stop being impressed and help me fix this?” Kyoko pleaded angrily.

“No, no, hold on a second, I’m thinking...” Kanae looked pensive, like she was trying to remember something important. “Oh! Oh my!”

“What? What?!” she asked frantically, trying to get an answer.

“You said he was tall, right?” Kanae asked for confirmation. “Long-ish, dark brown hair and eyes? Obscenely handsome?”

“Yes, sure, whatever, but what--” she began when Kanae interrupted her.

“Holy shit, Kyoko, do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” she asked, nearly hyperventilating.

“No, I don’t, because you won’t actually  _ tell _ me!” Kyoko nearly screamed her reply.

“I was wrong when I simply congratulated you yesterday. I think this would be more appropriate,” Kanae got up from her stool behind the counter and applauded.

“Not. Helping,” the other woman ground out through clenched teeth.

“Kyoko, my dear, your true love is none other than the head of the Vandersud coven himself,” Kanae tapped a perfectly manicured nail against the initials written on the note card. “Ren Tsuruga.”

The words drifted into her ears, scrambling to find purchase somewhere so she could fully comprehend them. Once they latched on, the realization forced a squeak out of her mouth. It continued and grew in pitch until it petered out into a croak when she ran out of breath. Her feet shuffled along the ground like a shambling, reanimated corpse, until she reached the stool beside Kanae and promptly collapsed onto it.

Kyoko was well, and truly,  _ screwed _ .

 

-THE END?-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually want to continue this one, but it will have to wait a bit until my multi-chapter fic is a little further along. Hopefully, you all want to see more of this too!
> 
> AUTHOR OUT!


	3. The Propriety of Reticence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanae decides to take a more hands-off approach with Kyoko... and a more intimidating approach with everyone else. Or, the one where Kanae somehow becomes a ninja.

 

* * *

 ****_**pro·pri·e·ty**  
_ _noun  
_ _the condition of being right, appropriate, or fitting._

* * *

 

 

“I don’t know, Kyoko, maybe he likes you,” Kanae gave an exasperated sigh.

This had to be the umpteenth time the young woman had come to her to discuss the odd behavior of one Tsuruga Ren. At this point, she was just parroting herself, trying to get it through Kyoko’s impenetrable defense of stubborn obliviousness that, yes, this man clearly has taken more than a friendly interest in her. She hoped that, if she said it often enough, maybe it would finally make sense. Maybe she would finally see the giant neon sign hanging over his head that flashed the words “totally into you and one hundred percent obvious about it.”

“Well, we definitely don’t fight like we used to. Maybe… maybe he considers me more of a really close friend?” Kyoko pondered aloud, sounding almost hopeful before shaking her head in disbelief. “No, that would be too presumptuous.”

Kanae didn’t even attempt to stop the palm of her hand as it crashed into her face with a loud smack. Clearly, she was never going to figure it out without him basically screaming it at her at point-blank range. At that moment, she decided to give up. She was over it. She was done. Kyoko was completely on her own from then on. And she would see to it that it remained as such.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

“... and he wouldn’t stop touching my hair! He giggled when I tried to swat him away. I swear to you, he _giggled_. What in the world is wrong with him?”

The two girls walked into the LoveMe room together and made their way over to the lockers to put their belongings away. Chiori was listening intently as Kyoko related her latest story about Ren and considered how best to answer her question. Didn’t she realize why he was acting that way? That was Flirting 101! How was this girl so utterly brilliant at acting, cooking, and a myriad of other talents, but so obstinately dense about this one thing in particular?

“Kyoko, I’m pretty sure he--”

The remainder of the sentence died in her mouth when she suddenly saw Kanae’s head poking out from the locker behind Kyoko. LoveMe Number Two held a finger to her lips and shook her head with a threatening glare. When had she come in the room anyway? Chiori was fairly certain the room was empty and the lights were off when they got there. Had she been hiding in the locker the entire time?

“He… is likely just messing with you. Guys are weird like that,” she amended her sentence quickly.

The solemn nod Kanae gave her from over Kyoko’s shoulder said that she made the right choice. By the time she blinked and looked again, the locker was closed and the other woman was gone. Chiori shook her head quickly, wondering if maybe it was just a figment of her imagination.

“I don’t know about that. He messes with me all the time, but this is on a whole new level. It’s almost like he wants to keep touching me,” Kyoko said after some consideration.

Chiori gaped at the young woman in awe. Perhaps the Kanae mirage was right to stop her from saying what she originally intended. By suggesting some other idea, Kyoko was actually closer to realizing the true meaning behind Ren’s actions.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

Ishibashi Hikaru walked alongside Kyoko through the halls of TBM one evening after filming. The others purposely left them alone, as per usual, so they casually chatted back and forth about whatever came to mind on their way from taking Bo’s costume for it’s weekly cleaning. She suddenly laughed at her own joke, her voice high and clear echoing through the hallway. Hikaru laughed with her, smiling softly at the sight of her jubilant face.

“You’re so cute, Kyoko-chan.”

Her laughter stopped abruptly and she nearly choked. He reached out a hand to offer assistance when she shook her head and waved it away.

“I’m fine. It’s just… you’re not the first person to say that to me today and I was a little startled by it.”

“Do others not call you cute very often?”

“The other ladies I work with say it often enough, but you’re only the second male who’s said that to me.”

“Another guy has said you’re cute?”

She nodded, suddenly overcome with shyness, “He poked me on the nose when he said it too. He’s been acting very strange lately. I don’t know what’s come over him.”

Hikaru stopped walking and stared at Kyoko. If he didn’t have first-hand experience with her infamous inability to recognize when someone is interested in her, he’d dismiss the words she spoke as blatant lies. Unfortunately, he was well acquainted with this particular idiosyncrasy. He wondered if pointing out the obvious would, in turn, cause her to realize his own feelings towards her. Well, it was worth a shot.

“Kyoko-chan, perhaps he’s--”

A woman wearing bright pink coveralls with long, dark hair appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and stood several meters behind Kyoko. He vaguely recognized her as Kyoko’s friend and fellow LoveMe member. She squinted menacingly at him and jabbed two fingers in his general direction before pointing them at her eyes. The air suddenly felt several degrees colder and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

“He’s, uh, probably joking around with you like I do, you know?” he finished weakly with a constipated chuckle.

“Maybe,” Kyoko said, sounding unsure. “Though I get the feeling it’s not exactly the same.”

The silent woman who stood behind her gave him a thumbs up and winked. He looked back at Kyoko, giving her a sheepish grin before looking behind her again, only to find their onlooker had vanished as quickly as she appeared.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

Kyoko sat in a cluster of chairs looking at several scripts spread out on the small table in front of her. Beside her, Yukihito Yashiro talked quietly with her about the various offers that she had and which ones would be the most advantageous to her career. She nodded in agreement at some things and wrinkled her nose at others. He gestured to the one script she seemed to be the most opposed to.

“Since I know you’re not ready for a role in a heavy romance, I really believe you can portray this character exceptionally well. Besides, this is being done by a renowned director. Having your name attached to this project could give you a windfall of additional opportunities in the future.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me, Yashiro-san but I don’t understand how I’d be perfect for this role.”

“Well, this is a drama with _very_ light romance. The characters are, for the most part, not aware of their feelings for each other and they only start to get an idea right before the series ends.”

“That’s what the overview says too, but I’m not seeing it. The male lead doesn’t seem to be doing anything that would give away the fact that he has any feelings for my character. I mean, Tsuruga-san has said more than half of these things to me and we’re only friends.”

The manager took a moment to remember to breathe as he looked aghast at the starlet sitting next to him. He always knew Ren’s frustration with Kyoko never recognizing his feelings for her but he appreciated it in a completely different way now. It seemed almost unbelievable that she would be so willfully negligent of his affections.

“Kyoko-san, do you really believe that Ren--”

A familiar face appeared, parting the branches of the tall potted plant behind Kyoko’s chair. Kanae stared back at him with a baleful expression. He watched her slowly raise her hand and drag the nail of her thumb across her neck while maintaining eye contact. A foreboding shiver ran through him from head to toe and he began to cough violently. After a few pats on the back and worried looks from Kyoko, he assured her he was alright.

Abandoning his previous train of thought, he tried a different approach to convince her to take the role, appealing to the similarities between the character and herself and carefully avoiding the undefined relationship with the male lead. She suddenly seemed a bit more receptive to the idea and eventually agreed to audition for it. When his eyes darted up to see if Kanae was still watching him, he realized she had already disappeared.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

“What the hell are you even doing, Kotonami-san? You nearly scared me half to death,” they’d each said when they approached her later on.

Truthfully, they said it with different wording, but the sentiment was the same. As such, she gave them all the exact same answer.

“She needs to figure the truth out on her own. Everytime we try to tell her, it just gives her another excuse to believe otherwise.”

Surprisingly enough, they all agreed with her reasoning. They even ended up joining her on her quest to keep others from their well-intentioned attempts to help Kyoko see reason. Whispers spread like wildfire through the LME building of the phrases that were forbidden from being uttered in the presence of LoveMe Number One, or else a grim visage would appear before them, stealing the very words from their mouths.

By the time the whispers reached President Takarada, he was fit to be tied that he didn’t think of it first.

 

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

Weeks later, Kanae found her thoughtfully poring over a script at the table in the LoveMe room. She recognized it as the one over which she previously argued with her manager. She was so engrossed that she didn’t realize her friend was even in the room until she noisily sat down beside her at the table. When their eyes finally met, she looked simultaneously anxious, ashamed and apologetic.

“Moko-san, I think you may have been right. I think Tsuruga-san might have feelings for me.”

Kanae used every acting skill she acquired thus far to put on a face of complete shock. This was actually more difficult than she anticipated as all she wanted to do was laugh to her heart’s content. Once she fixed her mouth in a way that wouldn’t let an errant giggle escape, she looked innocently at her friend.

“Really?! What was your first clue?”

 

-END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As horrible irony would have it, I accidentally posted this fic yesterday and had to delete and replace it. The part that had me shaking my head (and laughing sadly) was that yesterday's prompt was "wrong". Yea, I had that one covered in spades...
> 
> AUTHOR OUT


	4. CAUTION: Contents Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coffee shop AU you didn't know you needed. Also, the title may or may not be false advertising. There will be no citrusy flavored happenings in this fic.

 

“So, what name did she put this time?”

Ren turned the paper cup in his hand to show his manager the name written along the side in bold, black marker.

“Ryan,” he said with a grin.

“Why do you continue to let her do that to you?” the other man asked in disbelief.

“Because I think it’s terribly amusing,” he admitted, still smiling.

“She has to know who you are. Everyone in this city does. Hell, most people in this _country_ do,” the elder of the pair said in frustration. “She’s absolutely doing it on purpose.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,” Ren chuckled. “But, you have to admit it’s a little funny.”

“The weird crush you seem to have on her is funnier, in my opinion,” Yashiro snorted.

“It’s not a crush,” the actor objected, seemingly offended. “I merely find it interesting that she doesn’t fawn all over me like everyone else does just because I’m a celebrity.”

“If you say so,” his manager shrugged.

“I’ve never even spoken to her beyond a word of thanks,” Ren defended further. “I know nothing about her.”

“Yet you still frequent that cafe for no reason other than the fact that she writes the wrong name on your cup and, more often than not, gives you something other than what you actually ordered. What did you even get this time?”

Ren took a careful sip through the lid. His lips smacked a couple times and his brow wrinkled in concentration.

“Caramel macchiato, I think,” he said eventually.

“But you ordered an Americano with no cream or sugar, didn’t you?”

“I always do,” Ren stated.

“You’re hopeless,” Yashiro shook his head at the younger man. “Maybe, next time, you’ll try asking for her number instead of a drink you’ll eventually end up throwing away.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it, Kanae, how has he not complained yet?” Kyoko asked her co-worker, her head resting in her hands as she leaned on the counter staring out through the cafe’s large window.

“Who? About what?” the other woman looked over from the register.

She pointed out the window to where the tall actor stood  on the sidewalk talking to his manager before the two of them walked off.

“Him, I gave him the wrong order again. I even wrote ‘Ryan’ on the cup,” she explained.

“Wait,” Kanae said, realizing what was going on. “You’ve been doing this on _purpose_?”

“Well, the first time wasn’t,” Kyoko admitted. “But he never said anything about it so I figured I’d see how many times I could get away with it before he complained.”

“Why are you even doing that?!”

“Everyone always goes on and on how polite and gentlemanly he is,” Kyoko said, tilting her head to one side as she continued to eye the space the actor recently vacated. “I guess I was curious as to whether or not it was actually true.”

Kanae raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t this going a little beyond curiosity at this point?”

The young woman shrugged, but said nothing further. Kanae sighed and walked over to her, bending forward to place her head beside Kyoko’s. Her mouth stretched into a mischievous smirk.

“You like him, don’t you?” she said directly into her ear.

Kyoko jumped up from the counter, nearly knocking her head into Kanae’s in the process. She stared defiantly at her co-worker who now looked triumphantly at her with her arms crossed. For added effect, she haughtily tossed her long, black hair over her shoulder.

“I do not,” Kyoko denied vehemently.

“Sure,” Kanae drawled. “You’re only doing the adult equivalent of pulling his pigtails and calling him names in the schoolyard because you’re ‘curious,’ right?”

“I’m not pulling anyone’s pigtails!” Kyoko squealed loudly before realizing the customers were all staring at her and switched to a harsh whisper. “Why are you insinuating that I have a crush on him?!”

“For the love of--” Kanae sighed in exasperation. “He’s an _actor_ , Kyoko. A very attractive and successful one at that. No one would think less of you for it.”

 

* * *

 

Ren looked at the cup that was placed on the counter for him. The name “Reina” was hastily written on the side in the customary black marker. He eyed the woman who stood on the other side of the counter that was purposely trying to look everywhere but directly at him. He smiled, feeling emboldened by her obvious discomfort at him not swiftly walking away as he usually did.

“You know,” he began. “My manager thinks you’re doing this on purpose.”

He pointed to the name on the cup and watched as her eyes slowly slid in his direction, her mouth dropping open in shock. She promptly closed it, the corners turning downward in a skeptical frown.

“And what if I am?” she asked with thinly veiled irritation.

“I didn’t think you’d openly admit it,” he was momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly. “At least let me live in the fantasy that you’re just adorably clumsy. Don’t kill the magic for me, Kyoko.”

“Wh--how do you know my name?” Kyoko asked, turning pink at his ‘adorable’ comment.

He bemusedly pointed to the nametag on her apron and she looked down at it with a groan.

“What strange concoction did you make for me this time?” Ren brought the cup to his lips to sample the contents. “Tastes like a mocha latte with… vanilla?”

“Coconut,” she corrected automatically, then snapped her mouth shut in embarrassment.

“Not bad,” he took another sip. “Well, thanks for another interesting flavor adventure. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kyoko!”

He gave her a friendly wave before sauntering out of the cafe to meet up with his manager who stood outside talking on his phone. Kyoko didn’t realize she had forgotten to breathe until the two men walked out of sight. She also didn’t realize that Kanae was standing next to her with the widest, most wicked grin she’d ever seen.

“What?” she asked, having finally caught her breath.

“He was flirting with you,” Kanae continued to grin like a Cheshire cat.

“No he wasn’t,” Kyoko challenged. “He’s just teasing me because he thinks he’s found me out.”

“Does that mean you’re finally going to stop now?”

Kyoko’s mouth widened into a smile matching that of her co-worker, “Not a chance.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you have for me today, Kyoko?” Ren asked cheerily, eyeing the ‘Remi’ written on his cup.

“You’ll just have to try it and find out,” her lips quirked up on one side. “I guarantee it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever had before.”

“I’m not going to lie. You’re beginning to scare me.”

“Is that all it takes to scare you?” Kyoko teased. “I’m not even trying that hard.”

He slowly raised the cup to his mouth, watching it warily the entire time. After taking a tiny sip, he tapped a finger against his chin in thought.

“How did you get it to taste like banana bread?”

“Trade secret,” she said in a stage whisper, cupping one hand to the side of her mouth. “I’d tell you but, then I’d have to kill you. I don’t think your fangirls would appreciate that very much.”

Kyoko poked her chin out towards the small cluster of young girls who gathered just inside the front door, trying to take selfies with the actor in the background. He looked over at them and flashed a polite smile before turning back to the snarky barista.

“Another job well done, as usual,” he raised the cup towards her in salute. “Same time tomorrow?”

“My work schedule says I don’t have any other choice,” she let out a feigned sigh of inconvenience. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

 

* * *

 

A week went by and they continued in the same fashion with one another, trading banter back and forth over her increasingly elaborate flavored drinks. Monday rolled around and Ren was back in the cafe at his usual time. By this point, he had stopped ordering anything altogether and just paid the price for a regular coffee and stuffed a number of extra bills in the tip jar. After exchanging pleasantries with Kanae, he stepped aside to wait patiently at the pick-up counter for his drink.

“We haven’t gotten our latest shipment of flavor syrups,” Kyoko apologized, handing him a cup on which she had written the name ‘Royce.’ “You’ll have to make do with a perennial favorite.”

“You know I’m going to at least try it,” he reminded her with a smile.

When he tasted it, he was instantly taken back to his childhood and memories of his father handing him a steaming mug on a cold winter’s night. It was hot chocolate. Not just any hot chocolate, however. This was the perfect harmony of chocolate and milk and... was that cinnamon? It was neither too hot nor too cold. Ren looked Kyoko dead in the eye as he drained every last drop from the cup in an instant.

Not breaking eye contact, he reached over and plucked the marker from where she still held it lightly in her hand. He pulled the cap from it with his teeth and began to scratch out the name on the side of the cup. Then, he began to write. Once he was finished, he replaced the cap on the marker and set it down on the counter beside the cup. With a wink and a smile, he left the cafe and a stunned Kyoko behind.

Once she recovered, she picked up the cup and marker--placing the latter in the pocket of her apron--to see what he wrote. He had crossed out the wrong name on the cup, replacing it with his own along with his phone number. She was about to scoff at his impertinence when she almost missed the message he included at the bottom.

_This Saturday @ 8pm? Call for details._

The cup clattered against the counter after it slipped from her fingers. Kanae, who’d been watching the entire exchange, picked it up to have a look. An amused snort escaped her nose at what she found.

“It’s about damn time.”

 

-END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHALLENGE ACCEPTED: So, I was challenged to write a coffee shop AU and was told that there was no way Ren would ever drink hot chocolate (looking at you, Daamile). Well, I did it anyway (because I could and no one can tell me what to do) and aren't we all just a little richer from this experience? I know I am!
> 
> AUTHOR OUT


	5. Sing Along With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are very few things that Tsuruga Ren cannot do well--besides not being able to tell one particular young woman how he feels about her. This is a story about one of his other lacking skills.

* * *

_“Those who wish to sing always find a song.”_ **  
** **\- Swedish Proverb**

* * *

 

 

“Alright, if you two don’t behave yourselves this time, I’m revoking both of your radio privileges for a week,” a very agitated man warned, fiercely pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yashiro-san,” Ren said innocently.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” the manager corrected sternly. “Every time I have to drive you both somewhere, you use my car like a karaoke booth.”

“I just thought it was harmless fun. I didn’t realize you disliked it so much,” Kyoko added apologetically.

“It would be fine if either of you could properly carry a tune,” the older man grumbled. “Imagine what the press would say if anyone found out that Japan’s hottest actor and most promising newcomer were completely tone deaf.”

“Oh, come on. We can’t be _that_ bad,” Ren interjected.

“Perhaps you should try listening to yourself instead of screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs next time.”

It didn’t matter if it was an old X-Japan metal standard, a Fukuyama Masaharu ballad, the latest pop hit or enka. Yashiro shuddered to himself at that last one. They were particularly egregious when it came to enka and it ceased to surprise him when Ren would make up his own words because he didn’t know the actual lyrics. Either way, Mogami Kyoko and Tsuruga Ren were a horrifying force to be reckoned with when they decided it was sing-along time in the car.

What began as an attempt to cheer Kyoko up after a trying afternoon, soon became the bane of Yashiro Yukihito’s existence. Filming had gone less than spectacularly that morning and both men feared she was being too hard on herself. She was morosely quiet in the car when the newest release by Fuwa Sho came on the radio. Yashiro panicked and fumbled for the dial on his car’s console, but Ren calmly pushed his hand out of the way and turned the song’s volume up instead. And, then, he began to sing. Terribly.

Their manager likened it to the sound of a caged animal begging to be released. However, for all of the sour notes and botched lyrics, he noticed Kyoko’s frown was disappearing in the rear-view mirror. She stared at the back of Ren’s head with an expression of amused disbelief before a giggle bubbled unexpectedly from her lips. The laughter continued for a moment until she began to sing along with him. Also terribly.

The remainder of the car ride to the studio was filled with screeching high notes and warbling lows. An unspoken pact was formed then; that these performances were to become a regular thing between them. Ren started sitting in the back seat beside her so they could come up with awful--yet strangely elaborate--dance routines. A tube of lip gloss suddenly doubled as a microphone. Rolled up scripts were surprisingly versatile as various instruments; a guitar, a flute, a saxophone, even drumsticks.

And every time, Yashiro prayed for a quick and painless death.

If he were honest, it was a good bonding experience for his two charges. They both tried to remain so professional in everything they did and said that these moments of release were almost necessary. The tinted car windows kept prying eyes away from their hijinks and they were free to be the noisy, rambunctious children he always suspected they were. It seemed to help them get a little closer as well. He considered keeping a pair of earplugs in the car as an alternative.

 

* * *

 

“Maybe we should cut back,” Kyoko suggested when they were deposited at LME that evening. “I think poor Yashiro-san is going to have himself committed to an asylum if we keep this up.”

“You’re willing to give up our private concerts for the well-being of one person?” Ren pushed his bottom lip out like a petulant child. “I thought you enjoyed them.”

“I do. But, that person just so happens to be responsible for our schedules and the success of our careers so, yes, I am willing,” she said resolutely.

“Besides, we can still do it when you’re driving,” she added. “We don’t have to stop completely.”

“But the acoustics are so much better in his car,” he continued to pout.

“Well, it’s either that or we stop the act,” Kyoko offered.

“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“We stop pretending to be bad and sing properly from now on,” she explained it as if it were obvious.

“Wait, you… you mean you’ve been pretending this whole time?” Ren choked on his words.

“Weren’t you?” she asked, slowly and carefully as if her words could physically hurt him if she said them any faster.

He shook his head. “Singing is one gift I was not blessed with, unfortunately. Well, to be more accurate, I have a very limited vocal range.”

Kyoko gaped at him as if he spontaneously grew an extra limb in front of her. It seemed impossible that her esteemed, and highly talented, senior was perfect in nearly every other way but this. He had to be teasing her. There was no way that was his actual singing voice.

“That’s fine, Tsuruga-san,” she said with a nervous laugh. “If you’re too embarrassed to sing in front of people, you can just say so. I’ll respect your choice.”

“You don’t seem to understand. I really can’t sing very well. I’ve even had voice lessons. They basically told me to stay away from any roles that involved singing.”

He said it with such a straight face, she had no choice but to believe him.

“But--but you’re so good at literally _everything_ else!” Kyoko shrieked in disbelief. “How is this the only thing you can’t do?”

Ren shrugged in his usual, ghastly American manner and she groaned.

“Does that mean you can sing?” he asked instead.

“I-I mean just about as well as the n-next person,” she stammered out her answer. “Well enough to not get teased about it in class by my peers.”

Kyoko warred with the color that threatened to spread across her face. She had been complimented on her singing voice in the past by various people. Even Sho himself begrudgingly admitted that she didn’t sound half bad when she sang along to his songs. However, this was not the time to brag about that. Not when Ren was being so honest about his--admittedly shocking--lack of talent.

“Oh really?” he asked with a devious grin, clearly seeing through her words. “I’ll have to get you to sing for me sometime.”

“Is it too late to say that I’m too embarrassed to sing properly in front of others?” she asked, panicked.

He hummed affirmatively, his smile widening. Kyoko slumped forward in defeat.

“I could always tell people about your appalling secret,” she threatened halfheartedly.

“You wouldn’t,” he said plainly.

She sighed, pushing the toe of her shoe into the ground, “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

He patted her soothingly on the head, “How about this; if a song comes on that I can manage, I’ll let you know and we’ll sing it together. That way, you don’t have to sing alone, I won’t sound like my usual brand of dreadful and Yashiro-san can eat his words about our vocal prowess. Sound good?”

Kyoko’s eyes came alive at his words and she grinned.

“You’ve got yourself a deal!”

 

* * *

 

If anyone thought that they would scale back on their usual antics in the meantime, they’d be sorely mistaken. Their manager continued to be plagued by atrocious backseat concerts whenever they had the opportunity to ride together. It wasn’t until one evening, nearly a month later, that their plan came to fruition.

It had been a long day for both of them and the roads were surprisingly quiet that night as they drove along. Yashiro was fairly confident that they were both too tired to engage in their usual performances. As such, he had the radio volume turned up as he maneuvered the otherwise silent car through the city. And then, a familiar acoustic guitar and harmonica intro filtered in through the speakers.

He was too busy paying attention to the road that he didn’t notice when Ren motioned to Kyoko, in an ‘ok’ gesture. She nodded once and they smiled conspiratorially at each other.

Ren began first, initiating the call and answer of the song’s duet. Kyoko replied with a sweet, lilting voice that nearly mirrored that of Sano Yuho. At some point during the song, they brought out makeshift microphones; he used a pen and she had pulled a small hairbrush from her bag. Her hairbrush then doubled as a harmonica during the instrumental breaks.

 _“And then, you looked at me.  
_ _And then, you smiled at me with tears in your eyes.”_

They were both so surprised by the other’s voice that it was a battle to keep singing instead of merely staring at each other in shock. For only having a limited range, Kyoko was impressed that Ren was able to use it well enough that he almost sounded like a professional. She similarly impressed him, despite the fact that he already suspected she was better than she let on. Their shoulders touched as they harmonized through the chorus, swaying side to side as each leaned into the other.

 _“Goodbye, I dreamed about you last night.  
_ _Goodbye, it’s always the same story.”_

They didn’t notice that the car had stopped until the last notes of the song faded out. Looking towards the driver’s seat, they saw that Yashiro had pulled over. His phone was now clutched excitedly in a gloved hand and pointed towards them. He had been recording the whole thing. The grin on his face was so wide, the apples of his cheeks pressed firmly against the rim of his glasses.

Before either of them could form a word of protest, he put the phone away, securing it in his jacket pocket and swiftly turned back towards the steering wheel. He looked over his shoulder at them, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Just so you know, I’m playing this at your wedding.”

 

\- END -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:
> 
> おなじ話 - ハンバート ハンバート (Same Old Story/Same Old Talk - Humbert Humbert)
> 
> https://youtu.be/ZW7Oi8qq-D8
> 
> So this actually came about because it was mentioned that Ren has to be terrible at singing and sung absolutely horridly in the car whenever the radio was on. As such, Kyoko can now sing circles around him and he can only hobble along with what few notes he can actually manage. Honestly, it was just a really good excuse to write some adorable fluff. So, there you have it!
> 
> AUTHOR OUT!


	6. A Grim Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets oftentimes have a way of outing themselves in the worst manner.

The sound of clanging pots and plates sliding across stainless steel countertops blended in with the pulsing murmur of several concurrent conversations being held between the patrons of the tiny restaurant. Kyoko idly swirled the water around in her glass, her head propped up with one hand as she stared at nothing in particular. A familiar pair of long legs awkwardly positioned themselves in front of the stool beside her before their owner sat down.

The man shot her a nod and a lopsided grin once he was seated, his blond hair flopping into his face, partially obscuring his green eyes. She smiled back at him and he looked away momentarily to hand over his order ticket before turning back to her. He eyed her tired expression carefully.

“Another rough day?”

“I didn’t get enough sleep. My work doesn’t start for another couple of hours.”

Her last job had only ended five hours prior and she only managed to get a short nap before meeting him for lunch. However, it was always like this and she often looked worse than she actually felt. He shook his head in pity.

“You and your strange schedule.”

“It goes with the territory.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She silently refilled her glass from the water pitcher beside her, saying nothing more. It had been established between the two of them early on in their friendship that she refused to talk about her occupation. Granted, it took several attempts for it to sink in for him. He would often laugh off her comments that ‘if she told him, his life would be over’ until her constant pointed glares following that statement finally registered. Eventually, she would make generalized statements about her work day, but asking about any details was strictly forbidden.

Somehow, that never seemed to faze him. According to him, it just made him even more curious. As such, he often invited her to join him for meals or various outings in an effort to spend more time with her. She cautiously accepted. Having spent enough years on the planet to know when someone was interested in her, she wasn’t going into it completely blind. Besides, she reasoned, it was probably time for her to take another lover anyway. It helped pass the time and made things a little less monotonous.

“What about your day?” she smoothly redirected the conversation to him.

“Oh, I had my first solo shoot today! It was for a new salon in Minato, but I’m hoping it will lead to some more opportunities.”

“That’s wonderful! Tell me all about it.”

Their meals were served and he excitedly gave her details about his day between mouthfuls. She enjoyed the enthusiasm behind every word that came out of his mouth. He had dreams of becoming a famous enough model to possibly branch out into the entertainment industry, but doubted his chances of success due to his mixed heritage and looks being a little too exotic for the Japanese public. She did her best to bolster his confidence when and where she could. Knowing full well that most people only got one shot at life, she was loathe to discourage him from doing something he was so passionate about.

The lunch date ended all too quickly and she was on a train heading to the other side of the city. Her appointment was at a hospital that afternoon; one she had become familiar with in recent years. A stray cat hissed at her when she walked past on her way from the station. It was a common enough occurrence that she stopped letting it bother her. There was a reason she avoided zoos on principle.

 

* * *

 

He convinced her to try out a new dessert place that had opened up that weekend. Despite her deliberately being as vague as possible about herself, he was sharp enough to pick up that she had an undeniable soft spot for sweets. When she asked how he knew, he said he would have to be blind to not notice how wistfully she looks at the intricate pastries in shop windows they would walk past. His attentiveness was endearing and she liked it more than she ever cared to admit.

“So, how many cakes do I have to buy you before you’ll agree to go out with me? Is there a points system or a loyalty card or something?”

“There’s a punch card, actually. After fourteen pastries, the fifteenth one is free and I pledge my undying love for you.”

“Alright,” he cheered, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Sign me up!”

“Not so fast. You have to make it through a rigorous application process first.”

He halted his excited motions and pouted.

“I thought I already did that.”

“Oh, but the appropriate paperwork has to be filled out in triplicate and submitted to the proper departments with the required stamps of approval.”

“I’m beginning to suspect the reason you won’t tell me about your job is because you’re a boring bureaucrat.”

If only he knew how close he was to being somewhat correct. It never ceased to amaze her the amount of red tape she had to go through for a job that was, essentially, very simple. Then again, the use of currently available technology was quite convenient when it came to interdepartmental communications. She now had a concise listing of all of her appointments, with the relevant details, stored in her cellphone.

She snorted in response to his jab.

“I doubt that would even be enough to deter you.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t.”

Her heart sped up at the sight of his grinning face and she focused on taking even breaths to maintain her calm. Eventually, she was going to cave under his attention but, for the time being, she would hold out as long as possible and continue to playfully laugh off his overt flirtatiousness.

Pursuing a relationship with him in particular gave her pause. All of her previous dalliances were fairly casual, as far as she was concerned. Sure, the emotions were real and she legitimately cared for each of them, but she knew the reality of their situation. It could never last more than a year or two at the most and she would move on before anything got too serious. More often than not, they would grow tired of her constant secrecy and things would end naturally. Though some were more upset by it than others, she tried her best to make sure there were no hard feelings.

But, he was different. He had an intensity about him that both frightened and intrigued her. Her knees became increasingly less stable every time he touched her. His smile would cause her body temperature to rise by several degrees and her cheeks to flush. Her carefully constructed demeanor of mild indifference was almost nonexistent around him. Despite her best efforts to keep him at arm’s-length, he always managed to weasel his way past her defenses. With him, she was afraid it would get too serious too quickly.

She was even more afraid of the fact that she would purposely let it happen.

 

* * *

  

Checking her phone, she verified the time and address of her appointment for the day. She walked briskly down narrow alleyways until the small, nondescript house came into view. Her skeleton key easily let her through the locked door and she noiselessly slipped inside the house. The woman in the kitchen never noticed her when she walked past and ascended the stairs to the bedroom above.

An elderly man lay on a futon, a glass of water sat beside him and his breath rasped with every inhale. He watched her warily when she entered, then recognition dawned on him and a wobbly smile formed on his lips. She knelt beside him, looking at him through lowered lashes before bowing respectfully. He waved off the formality with a weak hand.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she said simply, holding out her hand to him.

“I remember you, you know. Back in Karuizawa. You came for my mother then.”

“You saw me?”

“I was very young at the time. Children can often see what the rest of us cannot. I believe you called yourself Mio then. Nice to see you’ve gone with a less taciturn look these days. The new hair color suits you. What do I call you now?”

“Just ‘Kyoko’ is fine,” she smiled gently. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t think anyone ever truly is. But, I have made what peace I can.”

He placed his trembling hand in her outstretched one and she nodded.

“Fair enough. Let’s go then.”

 

* * *

 

He never showed up.

They made plans the week prior to have a picnic in a nearby park and she received no call or text message informing her otherwise. She sat on the bench where they agreed to meet for nearly two hours before finally leaving. To say that it didn’t bother her at all wouldn’t be the biggest lie she ever told. However, it was certainly the most painful one, considering she had to tell it to herself. She wore her disappointment in the slump of her shoulders as she slowly walked back to the train station.

She cursed herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. It was such a human reaction, she thought bitterly. Then again, she was still human--at least, technically. But, she had spent too many decades in the same, unchanging body to ever really consider herself as such.

It wasn’t even the body she was originally born into. Once you’re called into her line of work, your old life is taken from you and replaced with a new one, complete with a new body, face and a serial number instead of a name. It was up to you to come up with one on your own, they said; supposedly, it was meant to foster creativity and ownership. As far as she was concerned, it was a bunch of patronizing bullshit. Then again, she’d had enough years to become jaded and bitter.

Still wallowing in her negativity when she returned to her modest apartment, she absentmindedly turned on the television. She really only did it for the background noise more often than not. The local news was on and she changed into a set of lounge wear while the monotonous chatter of the reporter droned on, echoing off the walls. Her ears perked up when she heard the report change over to a story about a fatal accident in Shibuya.

A speeding car apparently injured a number of pedestrians who were in the middle of a crosswalk. The one person who took the brunt of the collision was killed instantly. Now standing in front of the television, she wondered if the report was accurate. The accident had only happened a little more than two hours prior and she was never alerted that she had an appointment at that time. Something was very wrong and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the details.

Her phone rang, startling her from her intense staring at the screen in front of her. She looked once at the number before answering.

“Why wasn’t I scheduled for the accident in Shibuya?” she said curtly into the phone, bypassing any pleasant greeting. “That’s part of my territory.”

“It wasn’t on the schedule,” the voice over the phone said. “It was a Calling. Report to Takarada’s office in the next twenty minutes.”

“What? Why?”

“Looks like you’ve been selected for a promotion. The newest Called will be appointed to you for training.”

The call disconnected and she stared blankly at her phone for a few moments before quickly changing her clothes and grabbing her purse. She arrived at the office ten minutes later, a boring, gray building filled with desks and monitors and phones that looked like every other office in the city. That was the point after all. Most local headquarters were supposed to seamlessly blend in with the other corporate outfits in the area. Her short auburn hair bounced as she briskly strode past the reception desk to her boss’ office.

“LME-1224 reporting as requested, sir,” she said when she entered the room where a mustached man sat behind a desk.

“Ah, Kyoko, come in!” he jovially motioned for her to sit. “And don’t look at me with such a suspicious face. Everything is going to be just fine.”

“I was informed that I’m going to be assigned a… _trainee,_ ” she had a hard time getting the last word out of her mouth.

“Yes, indeed, I believe it’s time for you to take someone under your wing. You’ve been posted all over this country for the past eighty years, so you’re more than qualified to do so.”

“Is this really necessary?” she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Yes, one of our senior agents has ascended and a space opened up that needs to be filled.”

“And I’m the lucky sucker?”

“Oh, come now. It’s a good opportunity for you. Besides, it’ll be refreshing to have a new face to talk to instead of the rest of us stuffy suits.”

She sighed.

“What do I have to do?”

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic. He’s in the briefing room. Only just got Called today, you know. So you’ll have a fresh, bright young mind to mold!”

He handed her a folder and bade her to go meet her new subordinate. She complied with only mild reluctance and hurried down several hallways to a dull, beige door. Before opening it, she realized she had yet to look in the folder she was given. Opening it to quickly scan through the contents, she froze when she saw the profile sheet stapled to the inside cover. A familiar pair of green eyes peered at her from beneath a halo of blond hair. As she scanned through the information regarding his death, it--somewhat sickeningly--all made sense. That was his Calling she saw on television. And he was going to be her new partner.

Her empty hand curled into a fist and she slammed it angrily into the wall beside the door. None of this was supposed to happen. He was going to follow his dream and live out his life doing whatever made him happy and die of old age with a contented smile on his face. He wasn’t supposed to be subjected to… this. She wouldn’t wish this on anyone. But, the fact that he was Called meant that he was a prime candidate. Chosen by the Fates themselves to do this job until some arbitrary quota was filled and he could ascend into the afterlife. Still, it wasn’t fair.

After taking a moment to collect herself, she slowly opened the door; his new form revealed before her as she stepped inside. He was still unnaturally tall, but his hair and eyes were now a dark brown, his features now looked decidedly more Japanese; most likely to allow him to blend in more easily. His eyes were downcast, staring numbly at his hands. No doubt he was still trying to process everything they explained to him during his briefing. She remembered her own Calling and how disorienting it was to suddenly be reborn in a new body and thrown involuntarily into the task of helping the denizens of this world shuffle off their mortal coil.

When he looked up, having finally registered that someone else was in the room with him, he gasped sharply upon recognizing the woman who stood before him. She walked closer to him, stopping just in front of where he sat, her hands folded in front of her and holding a manilla folder. Bowing once, she straightened up, her pursed lips tilting into a smirk.

“You stood me up.”

“I know,” he said sheepishly. “I was… unavoidably delayed.”

“I guess I’ll let it slide this time.”

“I appreciate your understanding.”

He laughed, finally, and she saw the tension in his shoulders release.

She took a deep breath, pushing it out in a soft sigh as they stared at each other in silence. His eyes curiously searched her face for any indication as to what she would say next. The folder in her hands was placed gently on the nearby table and she moved the chair that was facing him around to sit beside him. Her hand reached out to rest in the opened one that still sat in his lap, curling her fingers into his palm. Looking him in the eyes once more, she tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“So, I guess it’s time you learned what I do for a living.”

 

\- END -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles for this piece were "Psychopomp and Circumstance" and "I Never Told You What I Do for a Living." The first one was an amazing pun, but it was a bit spoileriffic, unfortunately. A shame, really. It was my favorite title option but I had to go with a lesser pun instead.
> 
> We're nearly done with RenxKyoko week! I can't believe it! Only one more story to go and it's all over. It looks like you've all been having fun with these and I've been enjoying everyone's reaction in their reviews. Definitely rewarding to learn that everyone else is enjoying these as much as I did. I'll see you all for the finale tomorrow!
> 
> AUTHOR OUT!


	7. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, now... for the final day of RenxKyoko week, I bring you a funny, flirty short space odyssey.

A man sat calmly on the lone bench in his detainment cell, his dark, disheveled hair falling in his face while his arms and legs were bound by restraints that looked, to the untrained eye, like nothing more than glowing tubing. Of course, he knew that to struggle against them would likely end in either the loss of a limb or, at the very least, a severely mangled one. This wasn’t his first time in lockup. And it would most likely not be his last.

The guard walked past his cell for the fifteenth time that hour and he shot them a dark smile each time. Grunting in indignation behind their helmet, they continued past. He snickered gleefully, taking pleasure in the small annoyances he could instigate from behind the forcefield that blocked the entryway to the tiny room that held him.

At the next pass by the guard, he began to sing as loudly and off-key as possible, swaying his body as much as he could without aggravating the restraints. It was the bawdiest tune he knew and he took extra pleasure in shouting the more inappropriate lyrics.  He was really getting into it and reached the second chorus by the time the guard had turned back around to rush to his cell and point the rifle they carried in his hands threateningly at him.

“You know, you won’t be set free just because you’re being an aggravating ass,” the guard warned him.

He grinned from ear to ear back at the guard, his white teeth sparkling menacingly from the darkness of the shadow cast by his hair.

“Why in the galaxy would I want to leave?” he asked, his voice now slightly hoarse from his enthusiastic serenade. “The accommodations here are quite comfy. More’s the pity that I won’t be here much longer.”

“Yea, keep telling yourself that,” the guard laughed heartily. “Your bail’s been set at fifteen million credits. Where are you gonna get that kind of money?”

“From me,” a female voice called out further down the corridor from where the guard stood. “And he is now free to go, so I suggest you get him out of there.”

Taken aback, the guard checked the prisoner’s updated data on the console beside the cell’s doorway to confirm that he was, indeed, a free man. The forcefield flickered and dissipated, leaving the opening clear for entry. The guard entered first and began unlocking the restraints. Behind him a young woman stepped inside as well, her long, blonde hair with bright pink highlights swishing about her shoulders. She gave him a conspiratorial wink, her eyes twinkling with mischief, and he smirked back at her.

Now free of his bindings, he rubbed at his wrists for a few moments before standing. He was informed that his belongings were available for pickup on his way out of the facility and the guard left the two of them to their own devices. The man, towering over the much shorter woman at his side, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. Returning the hug, she looked up at him with a playful smile that invited him to kiss her senseless. He happily obliged.

“I missed you,” he murmured lovingly, pulling away to look at her once more.

“It’s been seventy-two hours since you were arrested and taken into custody,” she teased him. “Was it really so terrible without me here?”

“It was absolutely abhorrent here without you,” he confessed dramatically, smiling. “Honestly, anywhere is when we’re apart.”

“Oh, you incurable charmer,” she cooed, pecking him quickly on the lips. “Let’s get you back to the ship so you can change out of this ridiculous jumpsuit. Honestly, it’s a crime against fashion.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” he laughed, noting she was starting to sound more like his mother.

They made their way back to their ship, a small sport class vessel easily pilotable by only two people. Once they were back on board, he immediately cleaned himself up and changed into his preferred black attire. She was sitting on the edge of the bed in their cabin, watching him with a pleased smile as he secured the last buckle on his boots.

Once they had the proper clearance, they immediately left the docking bay and were soon cruising through the pitch black vastness of space. Their next destination was already set in the ship’s navigational computer and all they had to do was relax until it was time to meet with their buyer to complete the arranged transaction.

“Next time, I think it’s your turn to get arrested as the distraction,” he said, scratching again at his wrists. “I swear they’re fastening those things tighter each time. Maybe your tiny arms will fare better.”

It was their _modus operandi_ for one--or, on occasion, both--of them to be purposely caught as the perpetrator of a petty crime around the same time as they pulled off a much larger and more high-profile heist. It worked like a charm as they typically were released and in a whole other star system by the time their real misdeed was discovered. Sure, it was a pain to have to keep bailing each other out and, between the two of them, they had a rap sheet nearly a parsec long. It didn’t matter. In fact, they figured it helped them build credibility among their peers in the business.

“You poor thing,” the woman soothed mockingly. “I’m more than happy to be the patsy next time, but you keep wanting to play the gentleman and _insist_ that you be the bait.”

“You’re right,” he hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll take it under consideration for our next job. Anyway, where’d you stash the gem?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she quipped, raising a single, saucy brow at him.

His eyes raked over her outfit, pausing to linger momentarily on the corset-like top she wore under her jacket.

“Is that an invitation to find out?” he grinned eagerly.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “It’s in the third hidden cargo hold, where we always put the small stuff. Their scanners would’ve found it on me when I came to get you, you know.”

He pouted in disappointment, then stalked through the ship until he reached a certain area where, if you jiggled the corner just right, that section of floorboard would come loose to reveal a hidden hatch below. A nondescript box lay within that he carefully pulled out. Twisting the top of the box one quarter turn, it spun once on its own before springing open to reveal an emerald-cut gem--a little more than one inch across--that glowed with a pale blue light.

“The famous Neutron Star Diamond,” he mused, turning the box in his hand to look at the gem from different angles. “I always thought it would be bigger.”

“The whole point of it is that Crepacian gemologists were able to condense an entire neutron star into a small gem,” she pointed out flatly as she stood behind him. “It’s supposed to be a scientific marvel that can be drooled over by the masses, and bid on by the wealthy.”

“Well, If I knew they could do this, I wouldn’t have paid so much just to have a measly stardust pink diamond made for your engagement pendant,” he remarked, reclosing the box and securing it back in the hatch. “You don’t even wear it, anyway.”

“I don’t think it would go with my current outfit,” she said drily, giving him a half smile when he stood up and turned towards her. “And it would be an awfully telling clue as to our real identities, don’t you think? It’s a pretty unique piece. Besides, it’s the sentiment that’s more important to me.”

“Right again, as usual,” he smiled, leaning towards her. “Guess that means I’ll just have to buy you something else that goes with black synthetic leather and carbon fiber. How about I ask the Crepacians to put a nebula in obsidian?”

She scoffed, but smiled tenderly at his obsessive tendency to dote on her and pushed weakly at his shoulder with one hand.

“So, what took you so long this time? Usually I’m out in no less than thirty-six hours.”

“Well, we were about a million shy of having enough for your bail,” she chewed at her lip nervously, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “So… I had to put in a call.”

“You didn’t--”

“I had no choice!” she defended frantically. “Our account was already low because we won’t get paid for this job until we deliver the goods. I had to get you out to do that.”

He sighed in resignation, “Was he really angry?”

“Surprisingly, no,” she shrugged, then smiled slyly at him. “Though he does want to know if we’re coming home at all this cycle so that we can show our faces at the seasonal festival.”

He groaned, “We probably should, huh?”

“I believe his exact words were that we should ‘at least honor our required social obligations responsibly if we wish to continue cavorting around the known universe like this,’” she quoted, dropping her voice in imitation.

He walked over to the bed and sat beside her, pulling her against him with one arm. She leaned into him with a sigh.

“Well, love, I guess we’d better plan to head home after we make this last delivery. Make sure Mom picks out something stunning for you to wear.”

“Not to worry,” she grinned up at him. “She always does.”

It had been at least two cycles since their last trip home, so it really was a long overdue visit. The fact that they were lucky to live the life they had thus far was solely due to his parents, after all. Both of them were oddly sympathetic and understanding of their need for a little excitement and freedom from the responsibilities and duties that plagued them when they were on his home planet. As such, they were content to let the two of them roam the galaxy as the bandits-for-hire, Setsuka and Kain Heel. The caveat was that no one should find out their true identities; Kuon and Kyoko Hizuri, the crowned Prince of the planet of Nauritius and his consort.

 

-END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3-2-1 LET'S JAM: Can you tell I used to watch too much Cowboy Bebop and Firefly back in the day? Because I can. Thus, I will probably avoid ever writing a space sci-fi AU past this one-shot because it'll probably end up as some weird mishmash of the two with some random Star Wars thrown in. And, yet, I can sense some of you are nodding along enthusiastically with this saying "So? You should totally make this a thing!" I will take it under consideration, but be warned that it might never happen.
> 
> Well, I hope you all had as much fun during RenxKyoko week as I did! I honestly can't believe it's over already. I feel like I posted the first story only two days ago. But, maybe that means next year's week will come that much faster! Thanks to everyone who reviewed after each story. I couldn't stop smiling at all of your reactions and you were all so sweet to tell me how much you enjoyed each one. I'll see you all again when I have more stories to share!
> 
> AUTHOR OVER AND OUT!


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